Mai Pierce
by Charmaine Champagne
Summary: A Yugioh take on a noir movie: After her husband leaves her, Mai Valentine proves she can become independent & successful, but can't win the approval of her spoiled daughter. M/SK, 1-sided M/V, eventual M/J, smaller side pairings. Fuller summary inside.
1. Prologue: It Was A Dark And Stormy Night

Mai Pierce

Charmaine Champagne

Full(er) Summary: During a recent TCM marathon invited by a lengthy flu, I was fortunate enough to catch one of my all time favorite film noirs, Mildred Pierce, starring one of my favorite old-school actresses, Joan Crawford. And halfway through my enfevered brain had a sudden but compelling thought: Mildred Pierce = Mai Valentine. Needless to say, fanfic ensued. The summary for the original movie (which I obviously reccommend) is as follows:

Mildred Pierce (1945) (Joan Crawford, Jack Carson, Eve Arden) - After her husband leaves her, Mildred Pierce proves she can become independent and successful, but can't win the approval of her spoiled daughter.

So that, but with Yugioh. To that end, I've sort of tweaked all the characters to make them Mildred Pierce-y, and tweaked Mildred Pierce to make it a little more Yu-Gi-Oh friendly. No card games, though. It would be difficult for Mildred/Mai to handle a duel disk in that attractive fur coat. But anyways, that's what innappropriate crossovers are for.

PROLOGUE

It Was A Dark And Stormy Night

&&&

An overview of the city at night. Santa Monica, California, in the mid forties. The glamour of southern California, of old Hollywood, is at its peak. It's an era of glitz and glamour, parties and films, champagne and beautiful people. But there's a dark side too. Shady accounting, lecherous studio heads, conniving divas and golddiggers. All is not as rosy as it seems, especially at one particular summer house, which is by daylight a beautiful house on a Santa Monica cliff overlooking the brilliant blue Pacific.

But now it's night. Now is the time when the dark side of everything can come out and wreak havoc with the beauty of day. The Ocean doesn't look so inviting. It's dark, foreboding. Hard. The house is dark. It may be beautiful when the sun shines and people fill its room, laughing and cheering, but for now...it's dark. And the silence...the silence is palpable. And dark.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

Six gunshots, loud and clear, shatter the silence and fill the atmosphere with tension. In the bowels of the darkened house, Seto Kaiba stands, shocked, in front of a mirror, his best tux peppered with holes. He staggers forward, his hair flopping into his face, hands reaching forward. He lurches forward, groping for his assailant, before falling brokenly to the floor, his arms outstretched. A shining silver gun falls to the floor by his side, tossed down by an unseen hand. His blue eyes roll up and cloud over. He rolls his head up, gagging with the shock of the four bullets that made it through his skin.

Everything is a haze to the dying man on the floor. In his last moments of life, he squints and looks up for an answer. "Mai?" he slurs out thickly. Reluctantly, his eyes close, and his head drops down. He's dead.

Everything else in the room looks normal. The suede couch in order, the drinks on the coffee table half full of Scotch, the hardwood floors shining beautifully. But there are bullet holes in the now broken mirror, and Seto Kaiba is dead on the floor. A door slams.

Back outside the house, someone gets behind the wheel of a beautiful shining Cadillac and revs the car forward, driving away from the lush house and the nightmare it contains.

And now down to the Santa Monica Pier, a beautiful place full of happy, shining people and booming restaurants. But not tonight. Tonight the pier is slick with water, treacherous looking and black. Lights glimmer off its surface, highlighting the drama of the unhappy, deserted place.

But no longer deserted. A woman walks down this black, lonely road now. She's dressed magnificently for being in such a sorry place at such a sorry time. A fashionable black dress with padded shoulders clings to her gorgeous figure under the billowing fur coat she clutches around her shoulders. A matching fur hat adorns her head, topping an absurd length of flowing blonde hair. The woman's high heels click soundly as she walks down the pier, briskly, determined. Black gloves steady the hat on her head as a chill wind comes and blows her hair back.

There's a full moon.

The woman looks fundamentally distressed. Her violet eyes glitter with held back tears, her lips, slick with red gloss, tremble as she shakily holds the rail separating her from a steep fall to the ocean below. She looks at the moon and the sky. A sheen of sweat covers her face. She's nervous.

This strange scene does not escape the notice of a cop, patrolling his beat late at night. He begins walking to her, keeping a cautious distance, not letting a move she makes escape his glare.

The woman seems to gain control. A strong looks comes over her face. She sets her jaw, bites her lips, and focuses still glittering eyes on the ocean below. She takes a deep breath, grabs the rail, and propels herself forward.

The cop whips out his nightstick and whams it on the rail. A metallic ringing sound fills the silent air. The woman pulls back onto the pier, shocked. She wrings her hands, looking over at the advancing officer. His shaggy white hair hangs long around his face, bangs hiding his menacing eyes as he reaches the woman and glares at her.

"What's on your mind, lady?" he hisses out in a crisp British accent. Not waiting for her to answer, he continues. "Do you know what I think? I think that you had an idea you'd take a swim."

The woman looks at him mournfully, obviously stretched to the breaking point. "Leave me alone," she whispers.

"Ah, but what you've forgotten, my dear, is that if you take a swim," he points his nightstick at her chest. She eyes it with a glare. "Then I'd have to take a swim. Now, is that fair? Just because you feel like killing yourself, then I have to get pneumonia."

The woman tears up. The cop sighs, lowering the nightstick. "Thought never crossed your pretty little mind, did it? All right. Think about it." He sheaths his nightstick and looks authoritatively at the woman. "Now get yourself home. Go on home before we both take a swim."

The woman's mouth twitches. She's on the brink of tears. She wobbles back and forth, as if trying to decide. But finally she lowers her head and walks back down the pier to the mainland, away from the ocean and the officer.

The police officer shakes his head. "One of these says I will stop being so tolerant of these foolish mortals." A gold pendant shimmers underneath the cop's jacket as he pulls out a notepad and begins to file a report.

&&&

A/N: The prologue is kind of slow, but I promise it gets going in the next chapter. This ends my plea for you to stick around. Review if you feel like motivating me to continue, otherwise, happy lurking and I hope to do business with you again real soon!


	2. Chapter 1: A Nightcap

Mai Pierce

Charmaine Champagne

Presenting -- the first chapter, which is hopefully, as promised, a little more exciting than the prologue (hint: ROMANCE! In lurid 1940s style noir!). Also, we finally get some names going, which will probably be appreciated by those of you who don't have this whole story planned out in your heads.

Without further adieu:

CHAPTER ONE

A Nightcap

&&&

The woman continues walking, and goes past a bustling, seedy looking bar. She wipes sweat from her face as she passes by, so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she forgets to mask her troubled expression. From inside the bar, a man in a suit happens to notice her walking and squints in recognition. Turning towards the window, he takes a puff of his cigar and raps on the window to get her attention.

After hearing his fifth tap, she turns and looks for the noise, unsure of its intended target. When she sees him, he holds up his hand and mouths, "Wait." He runs out the door and hurries up to meet her.

"Hey Mai," he says in a thick accent. "What're you doin' around this pigeon perch? Slumming?"

He takes another drag of his cigar and looks at her with obvious worry.

"What," she answers distractedly.

"You sick or something?"

She breathes shallowly, sweat shimmering on her brow. "I don't think so..." she trails off.

The man looks down at his feet and then looks up at her coyly. "Well, if ya feelin' weak, why not come in and have a drink on the 'ouse? For free." He smirks at the sound of his own voice, then, noticing her silence, takes her by the arm and says with concern in his voice, "Come on."

"You know," he comments as he walks her into the bar. "Buying this joint was the smart'es move I ever made."

Inside the bar is crowded and smoky. People of questionable reputations walk around in glittering tops and jaunty hats. A cockatoo is perched above the bar. Cigars and alcohol flow rampantly.

The suited man sits Mai down and motions to a waiter. "Oi, give us a coupla' drinks, will ya?"

"Yes sir," the waiter confirms, almost bumping into an older woman in a cheetah-print dress as he scurries away to fetch some glasses.

A blonde dancer in a slinky sequined costume dances to piano music and sings out above the crowd's conversations. "You must have been a beautiful baby..." she croons. Someone whistles and she winks.

As the waiter returns with beverages, dark liquor poured high into shot glasses, the suited man looks over to where Mai is focusing intently on her thoughts. "I hope ya not sore at me about this afte'noon," he says to her, leaning in on his elbows. He smiles, his face full of boyish charm. "Strictly business, see? I mean, it might just as well have been you sellin' me out. Ya can't expect it that, that..." he trails off as he notices that Mai's intense stare has turned from the table to him. He quavers.

"What are you looking at me like that for," he asks.

"You can talk your way out of anything, can't you" Mai pauses, continuing to stare at him with single-minded concentration. "You're good at that."

"In my business, you have to be," he says, looking right back at her. A hint of a smile plays on her face. It encourages him. He smiles laciviously and says, "Only right now, I'd rather talk myself inta somethin'. Know what I mean?"

Mai smiles fully now, and something in her eyes brightens. "Still trying?" she asks lightly.

"It's a habit," the man says. He shrugs his shoulders. "I've been tryin' once a week since we were kids."

"Twice a week," Mai quips.

He chuckles. "Alright, twice." He sighs and smiles. "Anyhow, I'm still drawin' blanks."

As he speaks, Mai takes her shot glass and downs it. Her companion notices and frowns. "Hey," he accuses. "You nevah used t'drink it straight like that."

"I've learned how these last few months," Mai says, her gaze on the table. "I've learned a lot of things." As she speaks her voice is heavy, as though laden with remembrances of things she'd rather forget.

"Like f'instance?" he asks. He takes a cigarette from his front pocket.

"Like for instance that's rotten liquor." The man laughs. Mai looks at him straight, a certain look glinting in her eye. "There's better stuff to drink at the beach house, Valon."

He looks back at her and pauses. "Is that a dare?"

"Could be," she says, coyly circling her finger around the glass.

Valon lights his cigarette and puffs our a cloud of smoke. "All right," he says. "I'll take it." He grabs his hat and fixes it on his head over his impressively spiked brown hair. "You know I like good stuff." He gets up with a grin. "Maybe this's my lucky day."

"Maybe," Mai replies, refusing to give him any more or less. But she does allow him to grip his hand tightly on the small of her back and guide her through the bar to the front door.

The two drive up to the aforementioned beach house in a black car. The house and the beach are both unnaturally dark. She walks up, opens the door and turns to Valon. "Come in."

"How about your husband?" Valon asks as he takes off his hat. "Is he, uh...gettin' pretty broadminded all'f a sudden?"

She says nothing, but walks into the house, flipping lights on as she goes. He rolls his eyes and follows her.

"He isn't here," she finally tells him as they make their way through the house. "Besides, you can talk your way out of anything, can't you?"

"Oh, I get by alright," he says. "You keep sayin' that."

"Do I?" Mai turns on another light as they descend the spiral staircase to the drawing room. "Nervous, Valon?" she asks playfully, seeing his hand shake.

"Nah, I'm just cold," Valon affirms. "Temporarily." They walk down past the room where Kaiba lays unnoticed, dead on the floor.

At the bar, Valon sets to preparing drinks while Mai reclines in a chair to the side. "Now, isn't this more comfortable?" she asks.

"Oh, yeah, I guess so, but eh..." Valon trails off.

"What's the matter?" Mai asks, crossing and uncrossing her legs. Valon stops stirring the highballs, an eyebrow raising at the sound of her tight skirt shifting across her thighs.

"Nothin, nothin." Valon replies.

"You don't seem very happy here," Mai accuses.

"Oh, I'm happy, believe me, inside my hah't is singing."

He walks over and hands Mai her drink. She smiles and accepts. "That's pretty corny, Valon."

"Well, I'm a corny guy," Valon agrees. "But smah't, too." He bends down and clinks glasses with Mai, looking at her face as he sips from the glass. "I wondah about things."

"What things?"

"Well, f'instance, I wondah why you brought me here tonight." He sits next to Mai. "I mean, alluva sudden, boom! Husband gone, soft lights, quiet room...oppatunity. Why?"

Mai looks up at him. "Maybe I find you irresistible, Vallie."

"Yeah?" He smiles. "Y'know, you make me shivah, Mai. You always have."

"You make love so nicely, Vallie, you always have," Mai taunts, staring Valon straight in the face. She bites her lower lip, cherry red with her signature gloss, and looks up at Valon through her long eyelashes. Valon's breath catches in his throat as he stares with unconcealed longing at the object of his affection. After a few moments, he comes back to himself and continues, leaning in closer to Mai.

"Y'know Mai, all my life when I've wanted somethin', I've gone after it." He pauses for effect, staring into her eyes. "I get it too. May take me a little time, a'right, but I get what I want."

"Do you?" Mai smiles and cocks her head up, a gesture which opens her body toward Valon. Her breasts, pushed up to maintain her posture, lightly brush his chest. "It must be nice."

"Yeah, it is," Valon says smoothly, wrapping his arm around her and leaning in to kiss her exposed neck.

Mai's eyes open wide and she jerks her arm forward, knocking the glass out of Valon's hand. He pulls back, startled. Brushing Scotch from her sleeve, she whispers "I'm sorry."

"Hey, whassah score?" Valon asks, confused and more than a little flustered.

Blinking, Mai continues to blot the drink from her coat. "I feel sticky. I think I'd better change my dress." She stands and walks past Valon.

"Yeah, sure, Mai." Valon recovers and stands, picking the glass up and returning it to the bar. "It's a good idea."

"I, um..." Mai starts, reaching an open door. "I'll only be a minute." She walks out of the drawing room down a hallway.

"Leave the door open so we can talk," Valon calls after her.

"I like to hear you talk," Mai replies over her shoulder. She enters a nearby room and closes the door, locking it behind her.

"Yeah," Valon responds. He grins with self-satisfaction. "So do I. Somethin' about the sounda my own voice that fascinates me."

In the bathroom, Mai ducks behind a wall, biting her knuckles. The fearful look from earlier in the night reawakens in her eyes with a vengeance. She hears Valon talking from the bar.

"I'm glad ya didn' get sore at me the way I took ya ovah the hurdles, Mai. I didn't mean ta cut up ya business the way I did, I just got started and couldn't stop." She hears him fix himself another drink and walk to his seat. The leather armchair squeaks as he leans into it. "I just can't help myself. I see an angle, I start cuttin' myself a piece a'throat. It's an instinct."

Mai's eyes race around the bathroom.

At the bar, Valon drinks deeply. "With me, bein' smart's a disease. Know what I mean?"

The door leading to the hallway closes abruptly. Valon doesn't notice right away. Then an awkward silence fills the air. He looks up. "Hm?" he asks the silence.

He gets up and walks for the hallway. "Oi, Mai! Hurry up! You know I don't like to drink alone." He stops in front of the door. "Oi, say something!" he challenges, "This one-sided conversation's beginnin' to bore me!"

Mai scurries down the back steps and races away from the house. Her high heels sink into the sand.

Valon finishes his drink and tilts his head at the door, confused. "Mai?" He reaches for the doorknob and turns it.

Locked.

&&&

A/N: Hopefully that was able to pique your interest a little bit more. I think Chapter Four will be where the story really starts getting more fleshed out and explained, but please do tune in for the next chapter, which will involve, among other things, 1940s style police (lots of them!) and the further adventures of Valon. Reviews are not necessary but are highly encouraging!


	3. Chapter 2: A Class Reunion

Mai Pierce

Charmaine Champagne

Chapter three is now playing on a computer screen near you! Woo-hoo! Now, a warning…this chapter is longer than the rest, and has what I would define as three sections or scenes. So I'm dividing it differently, and you should probably buckle up for a long chapter.

Now, I'm sure you readers (I know for a fact I have at least three!) must be wondering what Mai's gotten poor Valon into, so, without further delay…

CHAPTER TWO

A CLASS REUNION

Last time: _Valon finishes his drink and tilts his head at the door, confused. "Mai?" He reaches for the doorknob and turns it. Locked. _

&&&

His confusion grows. He tries the door again, more insistently. "Mai?" He pauses, frowning. "Now, come on, Mai, don't play any games. I'm a nice bloke up to a certain point, but don't get me sore." He grabs the doorknob and rattles it. "Mai?" He bangs against the door with the flat of his hand. "Mai?"

Panic creeps up on Valon. He puts down his glass. After a moment's search, he finds another door, and tries to open it. Locked again. "Hey," he calls out nervously. "Hey, wotsa matta?" His shadow is long and dark on the wall.

"What kinda business is this anyways," he mutters as he stumbles around the house, searching desperately for an open door. But he can't find a single one on the bottom floor.

"Mai!" he yells as he nervously walks to the spiral staircase. Upon after a few steps he breaks into a panicked run. "Mai!" He races around the top floor, banging on doors, his shadow's spiked hairstyle throwing menacing light onto the walls. He hears a car's horn and sees headlights through the blinds as he rattles another useless door. As his mad search continues, he runs through the sitting room and accidentally knocks a lamp to the ground.

It falls next to Kaiba's lifeless body.

Valon's eyes widen in shock. Speechless, he kneels over Kaiba to confirm what his sinking stomach tells him. The shock overtakes him. He gets up, slowly, eyes racing. his breathing quickens.

The phone rings.

One, two, three, four times, more than that. Valon's hand waves over it, as he frantically tries to make a decision. Suddenly his hand lunges and yanks the phone cord from the wall. He runs from the room with a last shocked look at Kaiba.

A headlight passes through a window, and then it occurs to Valon how to escape. He picks up a nearby chair and throws it through the window, smashing it. Kicking the rest of it out, he stumbles through the window. Broken glass slices the flesh of his hand as he runs across the balcony frantically down the backstairs.

On the overlooking cliff, a police car slows. One of the officers waves for his driving partner to stop. He notices a disturbance at the house. "Shine a light on that house," he says, leaning back to allow his partner room to work.

The light shines down on Valon's frantic escape. The cop, a tall, muscular man, curses. "I knew it," he says, getting out of the car and rushing to the cliff's edge. "Hey, stop, you!" he cries to Valon, shooting the sand around him three times.

Valon, caught, looks up helplessly through the blowing sand, clutching his useless hand. "All right, all right," he chokes out in his thick Australian accent.

The cops race down the cliff to apprehend him. As the cop's partner searches Valon, patting him down, the officer who spotted him glares. "What's the hurry, bud?" he asks.

The other officer, a slighter man with piercing green eyes and a die hanging from one ear, turns up to his partner. "No gun, Tristan."

Tristan sighs. "Better take a look in that house and see what's going on. That guy came through that window like he was shot out of a cannon." His partner nods and rushes up the stairs. Valon begins to examine his hand. The officer notices. "Get that coming out of the window?"

Valon looks up and glares. "No, mate, I cut myself shaving," he says sarcastically.

"Alright, smart guy, get going. You need some fixing." Tristan apprehends Valon and escorts him back.

Valon rolls his eyes. "Oh, brotha," he says. "I'm so smart it's a disease." He casts one look back at the house before Tristan rushes him up.

At the police car, Tristan bandages up Valon's hand. "What were you doing in there, pal? Picking up a few souvieniers maybe?" he says icily.

"No, pal," Valon mocks. "Nothing petty." He pauses. "Y'know, this is a pretty big night for you." Tristan doesn't look up from the gauze.

"Yeah," Valon continues. "Lot's o' excitement. There's a stiff in there." He glances back at the house.

Tristan stops what he's doing and looks up. "Is that so?" he asks, following Valon's gaze to the house. He turns back to glare at Valon. "And I suppose you were running right down to the station to report it."

Valon nods, and smirks. "Actually, yeah."

Tristan shakes his head in disbelief and turns to the window. His partner runs up to the door. "Duke," he calls. "He says there's a dead guy in the house!"

"You never saw deader," Duke agrees.

"Better call headquarters," Tristan tells him, finishing with Valon's hand.

Duke gets into the drivers seat and picks up the radio's speakerset. "Car 93 calling K-Q-V-B. Car 93 calling K-Q-V-B."

&&&

Meanwhile, a taxi pulls up to the front door of a large estate. Mai exits the gray car, smoothing her skirt, and walks up to the front door. She pulls out her house key and enters.

Her shoes clack as she walks through the main entrance. No sooner does she return her keys to her purse than she is accosted by a young brunette who runs up to her, holding the skirt of her lavish nightgown, a flower pinned up in her dark hair. Distress contorts the features of her pretty face. "Mother, where have you been, they won't tell me anything," she cries, grabbing Mai's arm frantically.

"Who won't tell you anything, and who's they," Mai asks, forcing calmness into her voice.

"These men," the girl says, gesturing towards the parlor. Two men in trenchcoats stand in the center of the room, looking straight at Mai. The taller of the two, a large muscular blond, walks towards her. "Mrs. Kaiba? We're from headquarters. The inspector would like you to come down and have a little talk with him, if it's convenient," he addresses her gruffly.

"Why, what's the matter," Mai asks calmly.

"Sorry lady, we only ask the questions. Besides, we don't strictly know what the trouble is," he responds just as cooly.

"It's probably just something about the car, or something," his slighter red-headed companion assures her.

"At this time of night?" Mai's daughter, twenty at the oldest, asks with wide-eyed suspicion.

Mai stares at the blond detective for a moment before walking over to her daughter and caressing her shoulders to comfort her. "It's all right, darling," she reassures her softly, "Whatever it is, I'll take care of it. You're not to think of it. Now, go to bed please," she orders firmly, leaning in and kissing her on the cheek.

"Mother," the brunette whimpers.

"Vivian, please, go on," Mai repeats. Her daughter finally responds and runs up the large staircase on the other side of the hall.

Mai, seeing this, walks over to the two officers. "Can't you please tell me what's happened," she asks quietly.

"We'd better go." The blond takes Mai by the arm and escorts her out the door.

"What's wrong, what's the matter," Mai asks again as soon as they're out the door.

"We didn't want to say anything in front of the daughter," the redhead explains.

"It's your husband. He's been murdered." the blond grunts.

Mai gasps and turns to both of them. "Murdered?"

&&&

The two gentlemen take Mai to a stately marble building: The Los Angeles Department of Justice. She is escorted through door number 220, the Criminal Division Main Office.

The waiting room outside the inspectors office is filled with smoke. The men escort Mai to the officer at the main desk, a tanned man with light blond hair and light purple eyes. "Raphael, Alister. What'd you get," he asks.

"This is Mrs. Valentine. I mean, Kaiba." Raphael says.

"Which? Valentine or Kaiba, make up your mind," the officer says harshly.

"Mai W--Mai Valentine Kaiba," Mai stutters.

"Ok, wheel her in," the officer says, writing her name on a piece of paper. He goes back to sorting through some kind of playing card.

"Right over there please," Alister says. Raphael has already vanished. Mai walks up to a chair in front of an old desk cluttered with papers. Alister says to the old gentleman working the desk, "Mrs. Kaiba just came in."

The old man looks up through his spiky gray hair. "Well," he says. "Sit down. He'll be right with you."

Mai takes the seat and sits there, looking around. She looks over her shoulder and sees, to her horror, her best friend sitting behind her in Raphael's custody.

The brunette leans forward to say something, her blue eyes questioning, but Raphael reprimands her. "Look," the woman snaps, snatching her arm away from his grip. "I bruise easy."

"Tea, what--" Mai starts to say.

"No talking," the old detective says, snapping a ruler on the desk in front of Mai. Mai glances back at him, but keeps her focus on Tea.

The old man puts an end to that by picking up a phone. After a moment, he nods at Raphael. "Tea Gardner."

"Thanks, Solomon," Raphael says, leading Tea away into the inspector's office.

On the way to the office, Tea walks past Valon, who is in Tristan's custody. "Well, what is this, a class reunion?" Tea smirks at Valon.

"Looks like it," he says in response as he listlessly walks by. As Tristan leads him past Mai, he glares at her and says, "I'll have a tough time talkin' my way outta this one, wot."

Mai turns her attention to the desk in front of her. Solomon looks up from his paper, his eyes roaming the area around Mai's face. She looks to him anxiously, eager to receive instructions, reprimand, anything but continue sitting in that chair. She notices with some disappointment that he is in fact looking behind her, to the inspector's door.

Raphael shortly emerges from the darkened room, escorting out a tall, wiry man with a shock of dirty blond hair and hard brown eyes. Mai turns in curious desperation, and seeing Raphael's charge, gasps. She grips the back of her chair to twist her body around in the uncomfortable chair, better aligning her body with his. He walks out slowly, glaring at all the officers. Then he sees Mai.

His expression softens and pace quickens as he crosses the floor to stand in front of her. She looks up at him, breaths coming short and faint, and for a moment he sees something in her eyes so tender and beseeching that he is moved to speak.

"I'm sorry, Mai, I just couldn' help it--"

"No talking."

The man glares intensely at Solomon before looking back to Mai. Nothing dramatic has changed in her expression or postures, and yet he is keenly aware that the promise that momentarily flickered in Mai's beautiful features is gone, replaced by an accusatory glare that he is quite familiar with. 'I swear to you,' her glare tells him, 'if you fucked this up so help you God I will _hate_ you until the day I die.'

He clenches his mouth, making no attempt to move until Raphael comes up and taps him on the shoulder. "Take a seat," he growls in a way that turns invitation to command. The man follows with a last heavy glance at Mai before settling into a chair at the other side of the station.

Solomon flicks a page of his paper, but otherwise does not look up. "Know that guy?" he asks.

Mai glances up at the sheet of newsprint separating her from her guard and allows her poker face to slightly dissipate. Her eyes tilt and glimmer, sadness creeping into her voice. "Yes, we were married once."

She looks over to the man's chair, and sensing her gaze, he looks up. He fixes his eyes on her for a brief minute, fixated on the sad nostalgia that Mai has allowed to fill her face. He tries to angle his head away from Raphael and gazes apologetically at his ex-wife. They remain like this as long as they are able.

&&&

A/N: Well then! That's that! The gang's officially all here!

Now, I swear to you, loyal readers, that this IS the last "intro" chapter. This basically means that the next chapter there will begin the workings of an actual story, with explicated plot and everything!

Hope you like it enough to continue on, and do remember while reading that this will soon turn into a full-blown mystery…be sure not to miss a beat!


	4. Chapter 3: A Suspect Approaches

Mai Pierce

Charmaine Charmpagne

Holy god! This story lives! Who would have thought?!

CHAPTER THREE

A SUSPECT APPROACHES

The clock ticks away another hour. It's now two in the morning. A press reporter, a jaunty young Brit similar to the officer who stopped Mai from jumping off the pier earlier, walks in. "Hi, Malik," he says to the officer at the front desk.

He is ignored. Pressing on, he walks up and says, "So, what's the good word, chap?"

"My feet hurt. That's the good word," Malik says, not looking up from his report.

"Oh, you'll get me crying." He smiles. "Come on then, how about a nice, juicy item for the morning edition?"

"Nope, Ryou. Not today."

Ryou turns and looks at Mai. He tilts his head, puzzled. "What's she in for, then?"

Malik sighs. "Parking gum under her seat in a movie. Satisfied?" he asks sarcastically.

After Raphael escorts Joey into an auxiliary office, the waiting room is totally silent. Mai is now alone there, surrounded by unfamiliar faces and badges flickering in the room's dim light, watched by suspicious eyes whenever she glances, desperately, to the Inspector's Office, the end of her current line. The only noise in the room is the clock on the wall, ticking away furiously, a noise which makes Mai long for the stifling sound of total quiet. It feels like an eternity since the officers took Joey away; in reality it's been only an hour. But that means it's late now, almost four in the morning, and Mai can feel her insides getting shakier and shakier with each tick of the clock's second hand.

Just as she feels about to physically lose control, ready to vomit and cry and scream and pound her gloved hands on the floor like the chastised two-year-old child she feels like, the phone rings. Mai's stomach drops, and the heartbeat in her head sounds louder than the ticking of a million synchronized clocks. She stares at the phone like a drowning man looking at an anchor as Solomon picks up the receiver.

"Yeah? ...ok." He puts the phone down and, without looking at Mai, says "He wants you now. Now you can talk."

They don't trust her to walk through the door on her own. They think she'll burst into tears, or faint dead away. Or do they think she'd _fight_ them? Regardless, she's walked through the door by her faithful escorts, and fights to keep calm. The only thing she is allowed to do for herself is to move her legs, which she does, placing one foot in front of the other as they approach the Inspector's desk.

The room is oddly lit; as they approach she can see little more of the man than the wild shadow cast by his spiky hair. His face is obscured in shadow, and Mai, incapable of reading him, puts up her guard.

"Inspector, Mai Kaiba," Alistair says by way of introduction.

The Inspector rises to greet Mai, and as he stands he moves into the lamplight, revealing both a gracious smile and a decidedly warm expression in his slanted crimson eyes. "How do you do, Mrs. Kaiba?" His voice is deep and gentle, and comes as a great relief to Mai's frazzled nerves.

"How do you do," Mai responds. Seeing the Inspector, who at least pretends to regard her as a human being, has actually been a welcome surprise, the first for her in many hours, but her voice still sounds weak and tired after hours of forced silence.

"Won't you sit down," he asks, gesturing to a worn-looking chair on the other side of his large desk. She complies, indeed is given little choice as Alistair pulls out her chair and pushes it back in after she sits down. He sits down in a shadowed chair on the far side of the room, with Raphael shutting the door before following suit.

The Inspector remains standing, and as Mai watches him, she is momentarily convinced that she is hallucinating. Before her eyes, the Inspector goes fuzzy around the edges, and things start to change. Slight things: the incline of his impossible hair, the color and shape of his eyes, his height. Her eyes widen before she slips her head down, forcing herself to blink several times to clear this apparition from her sight.

But then he speaks, catching her attention. "I'm so sorry about your husband, Mrs. Kaiba. It must have come as such a shock to you."

Mai just stares, back into his eyes which now seem to be as purple as hers. His voice is so much softer now, the voice of a person infinitely more compassionate than the smooth, respectful person she assumed him to be at first glance. In her confusion, she doesn't venture a response for several seconds, only to quickly realize how her silence must make her look. She dips her head down and nods slightly, heartbeat racing again as she struggles to understand the man she'll have to fool.

But then the next time she looks up, he's stepped back and is returning to his chair, and in the dimmer light his edges look a lot crisper, more real. His hair is back to normal, his height returned, his eyes once again narrow and crimson red. Dismissing the whole thing as a trick of the light, Mai grips the armrests on her chair and focuses on stopping the desperate sadness she suddenly feels from leaking into the stoic expression on her face.

"Well," the Inspector says, tucking his chair in. "I'm...afraid I don't quite know how to begin. You see, the fact of the matter is, Mrs. Kaiba...we don't need you."

Shock is evident in Mai's wide eyes. Still, her voice is controlled and calm as she dumbly repeats the Inspector's words. "You...don't need me?"

The Inspector continues, "I don't know how to apologize for bringing you down her for nothing, but you understand. We had to be sure." He smiles warmly at Mai, an attempt at assurance. "Well, now we are sure."

Mai's hand curls on the desk as she leans in, confusion and anxiety swirling in her head. "Aren't you going to ask me questions? I...I thought you would, ask me questions."

"I know, Mrs. Kaiba," the Inspector begins, "everyone thinks we detectives do nothing but ask questions. But, detectives have souls, same as anyone else." His eyes flicker as he pushes a wooden box over to Mai's side of the desk. "Cigarette?"

"No, thank you," Mai says shortly, her gaze never leaving the Inspector's face.

"Go ahead, it's all right," he says, in that soft voice which, once again, throws her for a loop. Unthinkingly, she takes a cigarette from the box and raises it up, jumping slightly as Raphael silently comes up from behind her, striking a match to light her smoke.

She breathes fire into the cigarette as the Inspector starts to speak, his voice smooth and deep again. "You know, Mrs. Kaiba, being a detective is like, well, like making an automobile. You just take all the pieces and put them together one by one, first thing you know you've got an automobile."

Raphael slinks away back to his shadowed chair as Mai takes her first drag and places the box delicately back on the desk. The Inspector smiles as he continues, voice darkening. "'Yes, an automobile. Or a murderer."

At this Mai's eyes snap back to the Inspector's, searching desperately for an answer, which he summarily provides. "And we got him."

Mai opens her mouth, a million questions fumbling around her tongue, but she barely manages to blurt out a gasp of air before the Inspector continues.

"Oh, you're in the clear, Mrs. Kaiba. Case is on ice. So you can go now." His eyes flick over to the corner, and he addresses Alistair and Raphael. "Alright, men."

The pair stand up, as does the Inspector, and all begin preparing to leave. Mai, anticipation making her dizzy, feels like an overinflated balloon as she shoots up from her chair to address the Inspector before he exits the room. Breathlessly, she asks, "Could you...would you tell me, who-"

"Who did it?" the Inspector finishes calmly. He turns from where he stands, putting his briefcase together, and walks back to his desk to look at Mai. "Sure. You're entitled to know." He smoothly reaches down and pushes a button on his desk, producing a loud buzz. He then turns around and resumes gathering his things.

Seconds later, the Inspector's door opens, and at the click of the doorknob Mai whirls around to greet it. At first she just sees Tristan and Duke, each with a hand grasped firmly on the man they're escorting, the man who has been accused of shooting Mai's husband.

Taking a deep breath, Mai steadies her feet on the floor and raises her eyes to see the suspect, whom she is prepared to stare down with her best poker face. But when her eyes do meet his, Mai's face drops in surprise. It's not who she expected. Waves of horror pass over her, her stomach cramps, her eyes water. The nights events and the consequences they carry are suddenly very real to her, and she is totally disgusted, with the situation, with herself, with everything.

"No...no!" She looks helplessly at the condemned, and he stares back at her, his face hard and resigned.

"Yes," The Inspector says. "He did it. Your first husband. Wheeler."

Thoughts? Complaints? Bewilderment at this thing's sudden and unexpected resurrection? Let me know!

Chapter Four may or may not be coming soon! Live in anticipation, everyone!


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